Advent Tension
by Kaitlin Klein
Summary: As a terrorist group takes control of the Federation’s orbital base Tarsus, a group of privates and civilians attempt to retake the station, and foil a terrorist plot that will leave Edumea in ruins. A story about Ethan's rise to fame.
1. A Lowly Private

**A/N: Over the past few months I have become completely obsessed with this game and have had a lot of ideas running through my head about it. Because Ethan was my favorite character in the game, I though it obvious to write about him and his obviously exciting past. I've made several assumptions of the Advent Rising world and think that I may actually be close to some of it's untouched lore. I hope you enjoy this story and can get completely immersed in the universe just as I have.**

**Advent Rising and all characters associated with it are properties of Majesco Games, not me... **

Chapter 1: A Lowly Private

Ethan Wyeth's forehead struck hard against the metal support beam above him as he fearfully lunged forward, sitting up in his bed. His mind instinctively ignored the pain as the wailing sound that had woke him grew louder. His heart was pounding wildly from the sudden fear that was coursing through his veins. He breathed deeply as his eyes studied the darkened room around him, the crowded barracks suddenly moving with rapid haste and urgency. The ear-piercing noise continued to sound, but no one seemed alarmed or afraid, only him.

Ethan sighed with annoyance as his heartbeat slowly returned to normal, his mind calming with the realization of what was going on. It was morning, and the 'wake-up-call' had been sounded, just like every other morning. And just like all those _other_ mornings, he had another bruise on his forehead.

_I've been here almost four damn years and that siren still scares the shit out of me,_ his mind mocked his embarrassing action.

Ethan casually wiped the developed slabber from his slightly stubbled chin as he quickly gazed around the rectangular room, which was slowly getting brighter as his eyes adjusted to the maintenance lights that flashed on. Dozens of his fellow Federation soldiers were waking up and rushing away from their bedsides, quickly straightening their quarters and then hurrying to the showers before the facilities got overcrowded. He watched them as usual, as they spastically rushed, wanting to be ready before the Sector Lieutenant came. It was like this every morning, and like _every morning_ the room was clear within minutes, and he was alone. He closed his eyes and breathed as he calmly rested into his bed once again, the loud intercom signal to wake his ass up finally switching off.

_Two more hours of sleep._

A smile arched across his face, not so much from being able to rest a while longer, but from the satisfaction of knowing that he was disobeying orders.

For quite some time he had been just like the privates who had rushed and cleared the barracks, hurrying to impress the higher officers and earn a shot at being the captain of his _own_ ship. Hell, he'd have settled for Sector Lieutenant by now. But no, after the first three and a half years of kissing ass on Tarsus, the Federation orbital training base, and seeing that it got you no where, he'd decided that trying your best just wasn't worth the time and effort. But apparently it was only _his_ time that was being wasted, since all three sectors that he had been stationed with before had already excelled, either manning their own aircraft or running errands for generals he'd never even met before. Sure, sometimes things like this were normal, certain privates falling behind others, not being able to keep up with the natural _talents_ needed to make it in the military, but he suffered from none of those faults. He was Ethan Wyeth, son of Logan Wyeth, the famed miner turned pilot turned admiral. He had _no_ faults. He was born to be in the military, he was born to fly. (The mere fact that he had finished at the top of each of these boring sectors was enough proof of that.) But then again, it wasn't _his_ fault that he was still stuck as a private anyway.

_Someone high-up doesn't like me. Some other admiral I've never heard of. Either that or that asshole Cryton._

General Samuel Cryton had been one of the leading military officers on Tarsus since before Ethan had ever been thinking of the military, but ever since he'd arrived Cryton had had something against him, something that Ethan had never understood, a kind of deep hatred more serious than a simple disliking. It was almost like Cryton had _wanted_ to hate him. And ever since the man had been promoted to general of the Federation's new political/military sect, it seemed that Ethan was falling even further down the military ladder. The first few months of his disobeying orders had received a lot of attention from the 'higher-ups,' but after Cryton had took charge, all of that attention had stopped, like the General wanted Ethan to be forgotten about.

_Hell, I've already been forgotten. I'm working on my fourth different sector stationing for god's sake. I'm 23 years old, surrounded by a bunch of 19 year old rookies who can't fly worth a shit, and they'll still see the cockpit of a shuttle before I will, guaranteed. And I'm not going through_ _this bullshit basic training anymore._

By sleeping in late every morning, Ethan was purposely missing out on the basic protocols and lessons required of all Federation sectors. Each private, except for him of coarse, went through the same routine every morning: wake, shower, follow the Sector Lieutenant to a morning briefing, then participate in three hours of daily drills. And not even the _fun_ drills at that. Only lieutenants and captains got to play around with the flight simulators, privates were only granted access to the self-defense and firing corses. And as many times as Ethan had been through the same drills, he had no doubts that he could kick anyone on the entire base's ass, big or small, no problem. He might not have been the tallest private in the station, but his body mass was far from gangly, and he couldn't wait to test out four years of built-up anger and muscle. The basic training wasn't too stressful, but still, he'd been running the exercises for four years. Most privates only went through them for ten months at the most. Even the pitiful marines had to endure less time.

Ethan thought that the Federation might have made an exception in its military protocols over the past few months, since the tension of the Independence Wars was growing even more serious, thought that maybe even the lowest marines would be trained in flight combat. It _was_ the most needed sector of the military. Since the Allied Nations _always _attacked from the Beltway Colonies, strong and willing pilots were always needed to deflect any assault or destroy any threats before the rebels could reach groundside on Edumea. Many disasters had occurred in the decade and a half that the Independence Wars had been waging, most of them being from lack of good pilots.

_Well that could easily be solved. They've got one of the best right here, in private sector 52, and they don't even know it. God, you think that my name would at least get me somewhere. After what Dad did, I thought this military crap would be a straight shot to captain, maybe even general. Guess I was wrong._

After the Beltway Colonies had finally gained the firepower and technology to raise their own military, they'd joined to become the Allied Nations, a rebel group of idiots who didn't agree with the Federation's militaristic ways, or how the political world was run on Edumea. No one knew exactly how the rebels had come to live on the few pieces of rock that circled on the far side of the planet, but many ideas had been thought up over the years. Some thought that several criminals who had been banished from Edumea over a century ago had started the uncivilized colonies circling the planet, but others, the more irrational and paranoid, had a different theory. Rumor was that over ten centuries ago, another planet filled with human life, unlike Edumea at the time, had been destroyed by 'aliens,' and that only a few humans had survived. The few lucky people who got out then set up shop on a floating piece of their destroyed world, and eventually ended up at the uninhabited Edumea, where they built an ingenious ship and _restarted_ the species, making these mythical survivors the true human ancestors.

_What was that planet called? Edagior? Ah who cares, it's all bullshit anyway._

He did agree however, that the story held some credibility on the Allied Nations behalf, because supposedly the _ancient_ idiots who were too chicken to go planet-side and too hard to get along with had stayed on their crappy little asteroid colony instead of settling on Edumea. And the words 'coward' and 'stubborn' fit the Allied Nations perfectly.

_And yet after two decades, this war is still raging. God, we don't even know why this stuff started. Something about the Federation keeping secrets, and with those ruins they found beneath the city._ _Maybe if we knew what we were fighting for...or maybe if the Federation would stop-_

Ethan jumped once again as something fell hard against his shoulders. He quickly jerked around, ready to defend himself. And stopped as a familiar face stared down at him, smiling. "Sleeping late _again?_"

Ethan returned the smile. It was Ekken Taylor, a rookie Federation officer he'd been stationed with for the past six months, the only one of eleven that he actually wasn't annoyed by. "Well I was _trying_ to, until some moron came in and woke me up."

Ekken's grin grew wider, his teeth showing brightly against his ebony skin. He quickly wiped the heavy sweat from his bald head, and Ethan realized that the man had just returned from the exercise coarse, something that usually took three hours, which meant that he had just spent all of his _extra_ time thinking, instead of catching up on rest. _Shit._

"Eh, I didn't think you'd mind." Ekken's accented voice continued. "Besides, they say Daven's looking for you, something to do with Cryton."

"Great." Ethan was unenthused. Daven Ganton was one of the top captains on Tarsus and one of the privates from Ethan's original sector, not to mention that he seemed to share Cryton's hate for the overdue private. "What do the pricks want now?"

"Don't ask me, but as usual, it'd be best to avoid it."

"What's Cryton gonna do?" Ethan joked with sarcasm. "Keep me in a private sector for another year? That's original."

"Yeah, but he knows you hate it, so that's exactly what he'll do." Ekken tried to sound supportive.

"Let him." Ethan simply spoke as he quickly got up from the bunk, careful not to hit the awkwardly placed support bar he'd gotten personal with earlier. "One more sector stationing and I'm gone. Maybe then Cryton will realize how much he needs me."

"I think he already knows." Ekken paused. "He just doesn't care."

"Then he won't care if I skip put on a few morning drills then will he?" Ethan quickly grabbed his Federation one-piece standard uniform from the storage compartment above his bunk and climbed into it, sliding his arms through and finally zipping it up the front. He tried his best to hurry, wanting to make up lost time. He secretly scoffed at the uniform's dull color, the grey giving away his pitiful rank. _It should be black, the color of an officer._

Ethan gave another smirking glance at Ekken before casually walking away, trying to straighten his dark brown hair as he strode down the middle of the rectangular room, headed for the exit. He purposely ignored the other ten privates who had returned to their quarters, knowing that he wasn't a favorite among the group. The motion controlled door slid swiftly open as he neared it, and he stepped outside of the dark barracks, shielding his eyes as the outer light hit them. _Another morning, another boring-ass day._

Ekken stared at Ethan as he strode out of view. He grinned with a forced smile. Whatever Cryton wanted, he hoped it was something good. Ethan Wyeth was on the verge of snapping, and he didn't want to be around when it happened.


	2. Friends and Enemies

**A/N: This is hopefully the completed Chapter 2. I tried to tone down the language as suggested, but found that in some places it was unavoidable.**

Chapter 2: Friends and Enemies

Ethan's feet paced quickly under him as he continued his morning jog. Late or not, it was mandatory to his routine. Running through the steel hallways and glass-domed lobbies was like coffee to a caffeine addict. Without it, he might fall asleep on the job or get a little grumpy with the wrong soldier. And thankfully, unlike the caffeine addict's coffee, his 'jog' wasn't generated from sewage.

He quickly took a corner as he tried to steady his breathing, his agitated thinking making the task difficult. He angrily grimaced every time a passing officer would stare, the bastard wondering why he wasn't in the proper sector. But in all actuality, he was smiling, deep inside knowing that the focus was on him, and that his defiance for orders wasn't going unnoticed. _Enough complaints and I'll have that captain position in no time._

The thought was quickly forgotten as he realized he was about to enter Loading Dock B. For a long time he'd tried his best to avoid the area, not wanting to see what he was missing, not wanting to see where the _real_ soldiers spent their time. But for the past few months, four to be exact, he came here everyday. _"Just to make sure they aren't completely lost without me." _He _used_ to tell himself, but now he knew better, knew it was a lie. _You just wanna see her._

Ethan waited patiently in a short line of mechanics as the plexiglass door to the loading bay swiftly opened, its quick movement giving off a pressurized metallic sound as its flat surface separated into three parts, all of them disappearing into the surrounding wall in less than a second. He casually fell into place behind the few oil-stained workers in front of him as they slowly began to enter the enormous room.

He stared with respect as he entered, marveling at the genius of the human species, of all that had been accomplished in the past three decades. The loading dock was a wonder to modern science, half enclosed in a crystalline dome, and the other half open to the infinite universe that surrounded the station. It was all in the pressurizing units, keeping half of the room completely stable with a breathable atmosphere while the other half aided in any ship's leave of the station, sucking out the transport with ease. Landing a ship was a little tricky, but nothing Federation-trained pilots couldn't handle.

The dock was overcrowded for the time of day, no doubt because of the big campaign. The entire 1st and 2nd Class fleets, sectors A through C, were heading groundside the following morning, serving as guard and defender to Edumea's political world. Ethan didn't like it, politics and military didn't mix well. He'd defend his world as best he could, but he couldn't care less about a sorry ambassador. It'd been three years since the last campaign, but every election seemed to harbor more and more idiots into Edumea's Senate, idiot's that the Federation's pilots were risking their lives to defend. It wasn't worth the time, or the bloodshed.

Speaking of those pilots, several watched him closely as he continued forward. He ignored them, not wishing to grant them pride over his embarrassing situation and grey jumpsuit. What he'd give to be wearing the standard officer black, to stand with the many pilots around him as they swapped war stories and polished down their birds. Those _birds_, the beautiful OXP5's, were stationed periodically throughout the loading bay. The ship's short wingspan and fore-mounted gun allowed for superior handling and accuracy, and with the rumors of a separate turret being mounted on the top of future models, Ethan couldn't wait to try one out. The last real ship he'd handled on his own was only a class 4 model, but he'd fallen in love the moment he'd wrapped his hands around the controls.

A familiar movement quickly interrupted his thoughts and jealousy driven stare, and he was forced to look away. He tried to seem inconspicious as he stared at the figure who had just entered the room, tried not to draw her deep blue eyes to his gawking gaze and his sudden act of trying to straighten his defiant hair. From what he knew, she was a mere secretary on the Federation spaceport, only working in the loading precinct for the past four months, but that was more than enough. She'd caught his eye the first day he'd seen her, her lithe figure and long, curly blonde hair a welcomed brightness within the cold and grey refines of the station. He watched her with curiosity as she continued to walk toward the center of the immense room, her navy blue jumpsuit giving off her rank of civilian. Her position was all he knew about her, but he wanted to know more, he had to know more. Nothing that Ethan Wyeth wanted would be kept from him. _Except a ship and a pilot position you moron._

He blew with disappointment as she walked toward one of the occupied side docks, marking off a checklist of some kind as she casually conversed with the ship's pilot. A sting of jealousy hit him as he watched her smile. He should be the one she was talking to, the one making her smile with his clever demeanor, not some over-confident idiot who was just taking up space. _Maybe with that position you'll get the girl too, whenever that'll be. _Maybe he had a reason to stick around after all-

"Last I checked only certified pilots were allowed in the loading bays." A sudden voice sounded behind him. Ethan smiled as the voice sank in; he'd know it anywhere.

He quickly turned and met the man behind him's glance with a smirk. "And last I checked you were an asshole."

The man gave him a slightly fretted look before bursting into laughter, his body stepping forward as he grabbed Ethan had slapped him on the back. Kenneth McGregor had been one of the privates in Ethan's first sector and had since become his best friend, not to mention he'd excelled to one of the top captains on Tarsus. The dark-haired and semi-masculine captain was slightly shorter than Ethan, but what he lacked in height he made up for in piloting skills. Kenneth was the only other officer in the station who Ethan would actually admit could outfly him. And his generic military look of a buzz-cut hairdo and deep-set eyes added to his intimidating demeanor. He needed it. Kenneth may have looked tough, but that was all a lie. Give him a ship and he'd gun you down, but not without a good enough reason. "What's goin' on Ethan?" the man continued with a smile. "I wasn't expecting to see you in _here_ anytime soon."

"I guess not 'flyboy,'" Ethan mocked, slightly defensive, "what with Cryton in charge."

Kenneth picked up on his tone. "I didn't mean it that way. I meant with the campaign going on and all, 'Restricted Personnel Only' you know."

"Yeah I know." Ethan sarcastically returned. "The entire fleet ships out when our ambassador's call, but when the war-torn refugees of our pitiful world need help, we're no where to be found."

Kenneth stared at him with a surprised glance, "Refugees? I didn't know you were into all that humanitarian stuff."

"I'm not really." Ethan shrugged his comment off. "My brother talks about it all the time, him and his 'caring heroics.' But still, the refugees are better than those brainless ambassadors."

"I don't know," Kenneth disagreed, "this Lamwell women seems to know what she's doing."

"Yeah, they all _seem_ that way, but actually..."

Kenneth stared at Ethan as his words suddenly trailed off, his eyes wavering across the room as a blond figure passed by them and continued walking to the end of the docks. Kenneth smiled, catching on. "Secretary, huh?"

"What?" Ethan quickly snapped back to the conversation, surprised by Kenneth's words. He searched for an excuse. "Oh, I've never seen her before, that's all."

Kenneth smiled again as he pretended to agree, Ethan's cheeks slightly flushing. The_ great _Ethan Wyeth was embarrassed, and Kenneth thought it was funny as hell. "So," he continued, wavering from one embarrassing topic to another, "how's basic training?"

That got Ethan's attention and he quickly smirked with annoyance. "I was right." He spoke firmly as he shook his head. "You _are_ an asshole."

Kenneth returned his smirk with laughter. "Yeah, but I'm an asshole with a ship, and that means I'm-

"Wyeth!" a different and more aggravating voice suddenly interrupted the conversation. Ethan turned with annoyance to see the same shaven head and overly large ears that he'd come to hate since his first day on Tarsus. Daven Ganton had found him.

The cocky captain scowled as he looked Ethan over, trashing him with a stare and a sarcastic grin. "I didn't know privates were allowed in the loading docks."

Ethan gave a fake smile at his predictable comment. "What do you want Daven?" He refused to address the man as an officer. He might have been a year older than Ethan, but he was nowhere near the pilot.

The cruel smile disappeared from Daven's face, replaced by complete sternness and urgency. "Cryton's office. Now!"

"Ah," Ethan mocked him, "still the General's bitch, I see."

Daven's fists tightened at the insult, his masculine chest rising high as he deeply breathed, his height growing even further over Ethan as he straightened his back in a failed attempt to seem threatening. Ethan smiled at the gesture, but quickly wiped it away as Daven slowly approached him. The two rivals stared at each other in silence as mental words were exchanged, their inset eyes telling them of their hatred toward one another.

A quick grin appeared upon Daven's face and then he moved, his open palm slamming forcefully into Ethan's chest, a yellow piece of paper beneath it. Ethan staggered back but kept his balance. He felt the urge to throw the overly confident captain to the ground then and their, and deliver him the beating he had so long deserved. But before those events could occur, Daven had taken his hand away, leaving only the paper behind, and was then walking away, disappearing through the plexiglass doors as defiantly as he had entered. Ethan stared with hatred filled eyes as he watched the door, deeply hoping that Daven would return, feeling embarrassed by his failure to return his rival's slight but brisk attack. He quickly stripped the yellow paper from his chest and angrily read the words printed on the front, a summons to Cryton's office 'issued to Ethan Wyeth, Private 3rd Class of Sector 52.' The issue time of 'immediately' was written in bold letters. He cursed the General, but still not as much as he cursed that bastard Daven Ganton.

Kenneth could sense the uneasiness and embarrassment in Ethan's eyes. He tried to make him feel less threatened. "Don't worry about Daven, he's just jealous of your piloting skills."

"I'm not worried about him!" Ethan defended his scarred pride. "I'm just waiting for him to give me a good enough reason to kick his ass."

"You need to be careful around him, Ethan." Kenneth continued, more serious. "He might be a jerk, but he's dangerous too." A sudden sadness entered his voice. "You remember what happened to Brady. I still think Daven shut the comms down on purpose."

Ethan blew with annoyance at hearing the same story once again. "Kenneth, the Beltway's defenses killed Brady, not Daven."

"I didn't say he killed him, but he didn't try to help him either."

Brady had been the top pilot within the Federation before his fleet was surprise attacked on a rendevous mission through the asteroid belt. A call for help had been sent out over the Federation's channels, but the signal had mysteriously been shut down before it was received. Daven had been the comms analyst at the time, and he had never fully explained why Brady's transmission had failed.

Kenneth's eyes stared off as he spoke; Brady had been his brother. "And don't you think it's kinda strange that Daven got promoted to head captain right after Brady went KIA?"

"No, I think Daven is a major kiss-ass and got the job by doing what he does best."

Kenneth trailed off as if speaking to himself. "He's not half as good as Brady was."

"He's not half as good as _you_ Kenneth. Hell, he's not half as good as Ekken, and that guy's scared to even fly." Ethan tried to ease the man once again.

Kenneth smiled before seeming to snap back to his usually cheerful self. "How is Ekken, by the way?"

Ethan was glad to be off the topic. "He's good, chickenshit, but good. His wife just had the baby."

"Oh really? Was it a boy like they thought it would be?"

"Nope, little girl."

"A girl?" Kenneth seemed amused. "How's he liking that?"

"He doesn't know what to think." Ethan shared in his humor. "Said he's shippin' out in three days, going to see them. He doesn't even know what their gonna call it yet."

The two soldiers suddenly directed their eyes to a nearby wall-mounted intercom as a blaring female voice rang out. "All Federation Sector's A through C please report to the main briefing room." The message repeated itself two more times before finally switching off. The pilots settled around the docks instantly began to gather their things and head for one of the room's many exit doors.

Kenneth sighed as he turned back to Ethan. "Sector A, that's me. Them and their briefings. Everything has to be perfect." He spoke with sarcasm. "As if we don't know how to hold the ambassadors' hands and tell them when to duck from oncoming sniper fire."

"Of course you know all that." the sarcasm was returned as Ethan agreed. He casually strode away from Kenneth as the dock became more and more deserted. "I'll see ya man, don't work too hard. And _you_ look out for that sniper fire too."

"Aw, you know us pilots, just temporary shields."

"That's the way it's always been." Ethan waved as he continued to back away, but stalled his exit as Kenneth called back to him.

"Hey, the Fed's are giving us some time off tonight before the big 'future changing' campaign tomorrow. I was thinkin' of maybe stopping by the civilian center before I ship out. I mean, we haven't had a good drink in a long time."

"Yeah man, sounds good." Ethan agreed as he urgently tried to leave, ready to get his visit with Cryton over with, knowing that there was no avoiding it this time. He eagerly passed through the main plexiglass door, ready to either be banished from the fleet, or doomed to serve another year rotting in the deepest barracks of the Tarsus military base.

"And bring Ekken with you!" Kenneth cried out to Ethan as he disappeared from view, but the overdue private was already gone.

* * *

**A/N: Ok, I know that some of you are thinking that the involvement of the girl is kind of weird, but trust me, just because I am a girl doesn't mean that this is going to turn into some sappy love story. Don't worry, it's going to be far from it. I'll try to get the next chapter up within the next two weeks. Hope for some more reviews too.**


	3. Dishonorable Discharge

Chapter 3: Dishonorable Discharge

Ethan walked at a purposefully slowed pace as he continued down another hallway, toward the Administrative Sector of the Tarsus training facility. Any new visitor to the station could have easily gotten lost in the long and winding hallways, all a mixture of steel and grey concrete, but he knew his way around, especially the way to where he was going now. He'd had a great many visits to Cryton's office, and wasn't looking forward to another one. The station's layout had always been confusing, a neverending mix of offices and landing platforms.

The base was broken into four total floors, the lower three decks built for business, the top for the civilians. The 'business' floors each had there own unique purpose in aiding the station. The lowest floor had been built specifically for the engineers, 02 recycling and distribution, the power supply and gravity units, and everything else that made the station a livable environment. The second floor, mainly barracks for the privates and officers, was fully stocked out with all the basic equipment and weapon reserves needed, not to mention the extremely entertaining holographic weapons and combat training coarse, something Ethan hadn't went through in quite some time. (He made a mental note to stop by the coarse later and take his newly formed aggression out on a few rainbow colored holos.) And then there was the third floor, _the_ floor, where most of his time was spent. Completely equipped with everything important that a station should have, the 'Military Deck,' as it had been called, was centered completely on the war. All four flight decks were located there, save for the civilian platform, and each was labeled A through D depending on the rank of the soldiers who occupied them. A was for the private ships of the admirals and generals who frequented the facility, while D was reserved for the police division on the station, Tarsus Control. Everything in-between was strictly reserved for the pilots, dock B for the fighters, C for the dispatch carriers used to transport supplies, bodies, and smaller travel aircraft from Edumea to the station and back. All the secretarial and private offices were located there as well, including Cryton's of coarse. The floor had a small but locked-down brig, plus comms and the main bridge, which was equipped with all turret consoles and the primary orbital controls.

The only important thing that wasn't located on the 3rd floor was the newly implemented Electron Discharge Laser, a fusion weapon that was capable of destroying any orbital or ground threat that showed up. The famed weapon was constructed directly into the bottom of the station, and was controlled from the upper most level of Tarsus, basically the 5th floor, but being that it was nothing more than one locked-downed room, only accessible to the highest security officers, the title had been left out. The revolutionary weapon had started as a prototype drill used for boring diamond supplement in the mining colonies, but had quickly been confiscated after the Federation had realized how destructive it was. A few tweaks and fusion coil implants later, and the Electron Discharge Laser was born, a deadly alternative to ground and orbital warfare. The laser was capable of delivering a more than effective bolt of energy at any target within a 400 mile radius of the station, and had done an extremely good job of keeping the Allied Nations away. It's only downside was the incredible amount of energy it used, and the fact that the entire station's power went out for at least fifteen minutes after every blast, only the life support units remaining powered on. The laser had only been used once however, to destroy a Beltway fleet before the main transport craft had had an opportunity to land in the Edumean capital, so all the variables of the weapon hadn't truly been tested. But since that one time, no Allied Nation ship had come anywhere near the station, making the laser an effective scare tactic as well. Unlike the Lurium base, Tarsus had never been breached, and the Electron Discharge Laser was going to keep it that way.

Ethan's footfalls stalled for a moment and his random thoughts completely ended as he entered a large windowed lobby lined with several variants of potted ferns and cushioned chairs. The entire right side of the high-ceilinged room seemed to be nonexistent as a window gave a clear view out of the station, Edumea shining like a blue-green sun through the synthetic opening. Ethan didn't stare at the beautiful view for long; he'd already seen it many times. He instead, shifted his gaze to a dark-haired woman dressed in a blue jumpsuit who sat at a large black desk in the middle of the room. Allie was her name, if he recalled correctly. He couldn't be sure; all the secretaries in this sector seemed to look exactly the same, especially when such a beautiful blonde goddess was working in the loading sector. He gave a quick grin at the women before casually walking passed her. If it was Allie, she already knew why he was there.

A quick sprint up a set of intricately designed steel stairs and he was officially in the Administrative Sector. All the important people's days were spent in this overly-large hallway, where Admirals made bullshit decisions and life-altering plans were drawn up. Ethan looked mockingly at the extravagant architecture surrounding him. It was no wonder so many people had died in the war, all the people making the decisions were apparently more worried about having a nice office than saving lives.

He quickened his pace slightly as he spotted a dark grey door near the end of the hall, anticipation overtaking his disregard for whatever Cryton wanted him for. Who knew? Maybe the general had finally realized how stupid he was, and how wrong he had been to keep Ethan Wyeth out of the top sectors. Unlikely, but whatever their meeting was for, Ethan hoped it would be their last. He'd rather be kicked out of the entire Federation than have to put up with Cryton one more time. He stopped as he came face to face with the door to the General's office, the title "General Samuel Cryton" crafted into the cold metal surface. He sneered at the name, and quickly pressed his index finger against the small console at the door's side. His entire genetic make-up was instantly fed into the system's main computer, and in a mere second, the door hummed open and Ethan stepped inside.

"You wanted to see me, sir?" Ethan casually walked into the dark office with an uncaring hue, feeling tired of seeing the same room once again, the same black furniture and dim lighting, seeing the same creepy grey walls and sensing the same smell of cleaner and polished leather. His eyes immediately connected with the figure at the low lighted desk in front of him. The broad man was crouched over, staring at several documents on his desk with fixated attention. Cryton never looked up as Ethan continued forward, his feet connecting quietly with the dark concrete floor, slowly taking him closer to the center of the room. He stopped as he reached the front of the General's metallic desk, and stood proudly as he stared blankly at the crystalline back wall, eagerly waiting to be yelled at. The smooth glass structure, though not as large, was identical to the one in the lobby, and gave a clear view to the only visible edge of the asteroid belt. Ethan stared at the rebel colonies, at their closeness to the far side of Edumea. So many cities on that side had been destroyed, so many people killed because of the Federation's carelessness in controlling the boundaries of the war. When this whole thing had started 15 years earlier, the Federation had deemed the inner beltway colony rocks the only place that the fighting would take place, but since then, the war had spread to the surface of Edumea, destroying countless cities, towns, and most devastatingly, the mining colonies.

When a mining town went down, not only civilians died, but the entire production of diamond abstract was completely shut down- one of the reasons that the Allied Nations had always hit the miners the hardest. The more diamond supplement that was destroyed, the farther behind Covenant Industries got in their production of armor, weapon, and hull plating. And when Covenant Industries fell behind, the top distributer of all things war and military, the Federation fell behind too. But that wasn't a big deal for Ethan. He had a more personal connection with the mining colonies; he'd grown up in one. Him, his brother, his mother and father, had once compiled to be one of those _innocent families_, and if is wasn't for his dad, they'd have all been nothing but a pile of bones buried in a mine field somewhere. His father was a hero, and not only to him, but to hundreds of innocent civilians who would have been killed in the horrible Beltway attack that had happened only eight years ago. He smiled as he remembered his dad, a mere miner who had had the courage to stand up and fight, to take charge when the Federation had left them all to die. His father was praised for the incredible bravery he had shown on that day, and was later awarded with the rank of Admiral, not just for the sake of the title either, but one who later became of the highest influences in the Federation. Ethan had always vowed that he would end up just like his father, even if he didn't get there by means quite as clean and innocent. _"And if dad was still alive, this would probably be _my_ office."_

His smile quickly disappeared as he remembered where he was, and he blew with impatience and annoyance. He shifted his gaze wearily to the figure in front of him, Cryton. The cold and ridged man was still studying the group of papers on his desk, completely ignoring the private in front of him. Ethan curiously eyed the documents, forgetting his hate with curiosity; something that could merit so much attention had to be important. The papers seemed to be a schedule of some kind, docking and take off plans maybe. Setting beside them was a map of the facility's 3rd floor. The initials DB were printed boldly at the bottom of the top paper, stamped, with an intricate design around its outer edges, like a military insignia of some-

Ethan's trance was broken as a hand was slammed quickly over the top page. He eagerly looked in its owner's eyes, dark and anger-filled, deeply shining amongst the grey and black texture of the figure's hair, and the jagged and harsh features of his face. Ethan quickly looked away, again becoming fixated with the back wall, his arms placed tightly behind his back, military style. Whatever the General was reading, it wasn't his business. He didn't really care anyway.

"Sir," Ethan began again, "you wanted to see me?"

"Yes, _Private_ Wyeth," the General's cruel and aged voice answered with sarcasm and slight anger. Ethan hated it, every part of its deceitful and arrogant tone, having to hear it again every time the General had demoted him. He'd have liked very much never to hear it again.

Ethan pushed the eager thought away as the General continued, "And in all honesty, private, I'm getting tired of seeing you."

"Yeah, Cryton," Ethan answered back, pretending to smile, "I'm sick of your face too."

The General grinned as he watched Ethan with amusement. "It's been a while though actually." He paused as the grin disappeared. "I think this is the eighth summons I've sent out in the past month. I'm glad you finally decided to show up for one of them."

Ethan lied, not trying to hide it. "Obviously sir, whoever you've been sending with these summons in unreliable. I haven't received-"

"Don't you toy with me Wyeth!" Cryton returned with anger and impatience as he slightly lifted out of his chair, his fists slamming forcefully into the top of his desk. "You know damn well you've gotten every order I've sent. I've had enough problems today without you trying to piss me off!" The man stopped as he slowly settled back into his seat, his voice softening only slightly, anger still present in his eyes. "Now, let's discuss your rather-lengthy _stint _on Tarsus."

A yellow and orange light quickly appeared from a small console on the surface of the General's desk. The bright streaks reached out and quickly angled before ending abruptly, making a perfectly shaped holographic screen. Words rapidly sped across its surface, and Ethan immediately knew it was showing his military record. He listened with slight disregard as the man began to read off his personal history of the facility.

"You arrived here straight out of the Military Academy at the age of 19, first in your class I might add," Cryton began, "and were immediately accepted into our piloting division, Sector C if I remember correctly."

"Yes, sir." Ethan listened with rising discomfort as the positivity in Cryton's voice swiftly changed.

"You showed a lot of potential, always on time at your briefings, beating out all others on the basic training and flight simulation courses," Cryton paused as he delivered a barely noticeable smile, "but then your attitude seemed to change, and you were moved out of the piloting division and into the basic sectors-"

"Hmm, right after you got promoted, if I remember correctly." Ethan interrupted with a solid stare. A silence followed.

The General ignored the statement with a slightly unpleased grimace. He quickly continued as though Ethan had never spoken, though a noticeable tick seemed to spawn within his expression. "You got lazy, always late, no longer even participating in the basic drills. Even your social status changed; you made enemies, had a few brawls, several drunken outbursts in the civilian center."

A slight grin appeared on Ethan's face. He tried his best to hide it.

"But worst of all Mr. Wyeth," the General continued, "is your complete and total disregard for my orders and the rules of this facility, and dammit Wyeth, I'm sick of it! Everyday I've got someone in here complaining about you, about your disrespectful behavior or your constant wandering and showing up in the wrong sector." He paused, his anger turning to sternness. "Things are going to change, private!"

"Well, I've been a little _upset_ lately." Ethan's sarcasm easily bled through.

The General returned it, pretending to care. "Upset? Really?"

Ethan abandoned sarcasm, he was getting impatient, "Well sir, having to spend four years in the same sector for no apparent reason tends to piss a man off."

"Oh," the General smiled, a look of worry on his face, "so that's what your little _tantrum_ is about."

A smile parted Ethan's lips as he began to laugh in a low and insulting manner.

Cryton stared with confusion as the laughter grew louder, "Is something funny, private?"

"Sorry Sir," Ethan began before his expression completely changed, the laughter fading and only hatred being left behind, "but it's just that you're acting like you didn't already know that."

"What exactly are you trying to say?" Cryton actually seemed surprised as he slowly stood from his chair, though Ethan knew he was faking. "The fact that you can't make it in the service isn't my fault."

"Bullshit!" Anger took Ethan completely, he couldn't hold in his suspicions any longer. "I know you hated my father, hated him because he got the job you wanted, got the title of Hero while you got left in the cold!" He paused as he stared at the General, hate consuming him as he finally accused him face to face. "You've never forgiven the service for what they did to you, and now you're taking it out on me!"

Cryton was quiet as he took in Ethan's words. He was trying to think of something to say, trying to hold in his anger at the accusation and trying to cover up his want to tear the private apart. He failed. "Your father was a disgrace to the Federation!" The words left his mouth swiftly, screaming with a rage he had longed to deliver. "He wasn't worthy to be called a pilot, much less Admiral of the fleet!"

"My father was a hero!" Ethan defended with anger.

"Your father was a fake!" The General returned, his tall stance never wavering as he continued his disheartening attack. "He might have saved one pathetic mining community from the Beltway attacks, but how many others died because of his carelessness!"

Ethan was silent as he stared. He slowly brought himself closer to the General, clenching his teeth as he came only inches from the man's face. "I know where you're going with this," he warned, knowing of the rumors the fleet had started of his father being a traitor, the lies of him working for the Beltway Colonies only to turn on them when their plot no longer suited him. "and I swear, if you mutter a word of it, nothing will stop me from jumping over this desk, old man."

A strong silence fell as neither of them breathed, no words were exchanged and no glances other than two of complete and total hatred. Ethan wanted to tackle him, beat him down for even thinking of breathing truth into the lies about his father, and he was sure that Cryton had is own reasons to do the same to him.

"General Cryton?" A delicate voice interrupted the silence as a familiar feminine face appeared on the holographic screen beside them. Cryton seemed angered by the disturbance, but tried his best not to show it.

"Yes, Allie?"

"The shipment of marines from the Lurium base has arrived and are waiting for conformation to land." Allie informed him, seeming slightly impatient. "We've already gotten ground conformation and are waiting for your permission to board, Sir."

All ships, whether boarding or leaving any orbital station, required clearance from two separate posts, one from the head Federation base on Edumea, and the other from the actual base that the ship was leaving or boarding. And from Allie's request, apparently even the marines were getting in on the action; guarding Edumea's top political leaders was big business, even though it was common knowledge that nothing was going to happen. Even the Allied Nation's weren't dumb enough to stage an attack during a campaign.

"I'll be out in a minute, Allie." Cryton spoke lowly, seeming embarrassed. He turned back to Ethan as the hologram disappeared completely. "We'll discuss this later, Private Wyeth." the anger returned to his voice as he slowly backed away. "You want out of the basic sectors? You'll get your wish." He stared with intense eyes as he paused, and then smiled. "Enjoy the next three days on Tarsus, private, cause they'll be your last as a Federation soldier. As soon as all this political bullshit is over with, you're gone. And you'll _never_ see the controls of an Aircraft again!"

**A/N: And that's Chapter 3! Sorry it took so long, and sorry I didn't have any action, I was planning to, but then the entire part ran long, and was 5 pages before I knew it! So the action will have to be held out until Chapter 4. I implemented a lot of little things from the game in this one, especially the whole diamond thingy. Before you say it is stupid, one of the civs in the 1st level was talking about it, and I needed something for them to mine, so...what better than diamonds? Also the bit about the women all looking the same, just a personal tiff I have with the game ;). Hope you enjoyed it, even without the action. I really wanted you to hate Cryton, and hopefully you do! And hopefully I'll have the next Chapter up in the next 2 to 3 weeks...hopefully.**


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